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LOVE POEMS AND 
SONNETS 








Poems and Sonnets 


S BY 


OWEN INNSLY 


BOSTON 
CUPPLES, UPHAM & COMPANY 
Or_p CORNER BOOKSTORE 


1883 


COPYRIGHT, 1882. 
By A. Wituiams & Co. 


Chird Hvition. 


PRESS OF 
STANLEY AND USHER, 
BOSTON, MASS. 


SAAR 

< DEDICATION. 

.,_ Mov’st thou, perchance, in strange and 
. starry spheres 

Afar, beyond the impenetrable night 
_ That shrouds the tomb, smiling at the 
& old fears 
s Of death, encircled by Seance ae 

light ? 

Or dost thou sleep where thy last bed 

was made, 

Beneath the violets and the scented 

grass, 

.. Careless alike of sunshine and of shade, 
> > of morns that linger and of eves that 
My pass ? 
> 
jan! who shall say? No eye can pierce 

the dark, 
Or 


_ No strained ear tidings catch of weal or 


woe 


~Out of the silence; and no single spark 


~Illumes that portal through which all 
Sher must go. 


1.146858 


8 DEDICATION. 


Yet this we know: Death is a kind of 
birth, 

And brings one sacred immortality ; 

Thou livest in thy traces left on earth ; 

Thou livest in thy children’s memory. 


And one of these, binding the varied 
flowers, 

With tinted petals and with shining 
leaves, 

Fall’n on his path in sad and happy 
hours, 

As one might bind the ripened corn in 
sheaves, 

Dear blossoms of the heart and brain, — 
such sprays 

And blooms as wither not, but nod and 
wave 

Forever, — the completed garland lays 

With loving hands upon thy quiet grave. 


CONTENTS. 


RPECRUION og! hs} a) 2) wh lah ati Cather city 


LOVE POEMS AND SONNETS. 


Peat, > hdiccn oh pat seth (Leh cae 
Nature and Piya Sh ke whe ieee ea oh 
SABO i. 6 BU AD Leh i the ROR 2 ud, 
An Evening Ride AG) teed a adh Mehaar a) wate 
DMRRMEE dus O'S) 9d le wire vat ee ree 
RE eg a get at omla ails agar ee 
Detrreamor Death... of eae wes 680 
(DSS olf 9 IP Sam eae ele bei 
EMEOAISACLON 6) ys) Mella tek oe ae 
BPtIOE VECXOUS "5 oe Perea TSS 89 
BRS Aad em aihs SES er ee LS EAD 
PERE teu is SS Usa ley eee en BO 
RRMA SAVOMUE hae gh Na teh g vebisy San aS 
OTE LUCTO. 6 eg! ¥ 6 sii el as! so Me 
MMMIRE ALIS es go y. Vaintha ale atte ee ee 
MUPEREAONOEC ai eh 5 ceo oe) Lie ne oa et eS 
RMMIETERECIIEOS 35 a4! oy 5 7 bo cake ae 
Ree ys 5 aly igt) oad aye Noe 


10 CONTENTS. 


FOWELS aha ib!) ao etoile 
Iiebesbitte’ 4... sii liavie 
My Queen. .. of ran 
“One Way of rave 4 


Mortalis ee eee 
mine yes as ab oanee 
nEDSHO ENCE! 36) 15) is) eae 
Submission 

ove's Calendar wise va" « 
Islands . 


Snow-Drops . 

Love’s Abode 

Storm and Calm. 
Serving. ‘ 
The Burden of ree é 

A Simile 

Blossoms of Love . 
Deprecation . 

Nepenthe . 

Zv Zwryp . 

In a Letter 

Titles 2 Mife ie epee 
After Absence . . . . 
Bondageses) 40s sk 
Witch-Hazel . 

Calm. i 
Symphonie F antantique ‘ 
Idem non Aliter. 


CONTENTS. Il 


The Sleeping Beauty . . . 2. #199 
Friendship and Love...) 2. ei 102 
EU POUDATOUL <6 fo: he valve. oe blel me eEOd 
Sene Greek Youth”. -. o0:. is oe eV T06 
MAMGETICDEN 4 be 6) v6 fie te ve. eee IOS 
REE hw" S rg ae ial Val toe hea 
PERIMEGORVENt)) won is Wk Oa eee 
MPIORECLELOICNS 5. te 0) oy ofl ARSNTES 
IT RES. o's. eh de alkalies er PEG 
II MESS iy, ge Me pia tec Nace wa, MOE LS 
MRTG 3. ie, fe ate eh ee EO 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


MITE a's eg ce ee te LSS 
CORIO oe gg eae a er ET 
REIT dg) ek er oe eee 
PeOre Ont |. |. i ee 8 Se pay 
Waking . . vaentuae ie) i RAG 
The Rose and the Statue Buia et Se he) eS 
1 SII Sa See Gs all ae ec. 
RETTIG AT TS Ng at ee RAE 
Prom Naples to Rome. <: . . . . 144 
SECS Sd hee ie ROAR 9 1a. 
Peters in Rome ‘si 3... se TRO 
REELS, 5 iis ie 4.38 =o) oe elt ae SO 
BREE INCIAT «(56 Ok Se Meee GS 
obo Eid OT iti Pacer anita. ie) C4 
BE VET eis 2% eee ealite) GZ 


I2 CONTENTS. 
PAGE 
C1 
Schumann’s Symphony in B Flat 
Major . 4... >... 
Joachim 5. )..'.. si!» °° \Q aie 
Rubinstein...°.. . 5s. 3) sp an 
GROpIn Wy. Ws. 165 
“Mein Tag war hater gliicklich. 
meine Nacht”... .°.. (cient nee 
To Re We Be: jis. (s\ es eee 
Chaucer <5 30.4) s:\0) otis se 
At Seale 6) fe ee eh 0 
A Voyages (2) 6% wpe. 
Kings «ss 3 6) So. fs, \s 
Weaving. . of. 5 NE 
A Shattered Glass Perey 
Surplus’. «03. 6). 6 a. +! earn 
Florence 2) 5 s).+ 0 1s Salhi ae 
Shelley: 3... 0. 3:9) 2 
Cor Cordium." .. ..\«. 's ) s Se ite a 
Rome after 1870...) « 4) 
To Romey 2, . +e) Se 
Antinous of the Vatican oe oe te a 
A’ Bas-Relief, . ..) ss! $55 s)uipee 
Addio a Roma... «  ./s 0 sts 
On Leaving Italy. . . <) 3) 


LOVE POEMS AND SON- 
NETS. 





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WAITING. 


I count the days, — 
The lovely days, the weary days ; 
From east to west they softly go, 
Silent and slow. 


Green is the earth 
With budding grass ; the wondrous birth 
Of spring and hope, wide as it spreads, 
New glory sheds. 


The air is sweet. 
Here snowy petals strew the street; 
Here lean against the garden-wall 
The lilacs tall. 


The cuckoo cries, 
And in his frequent note there lies 


16 WAITING. 


The count of years where brain and 
nerve 
Must toil and serve.} 


But youth is strong, 
And unappalled it fronts the long 
Array of days — which must be fair 
If thou art there — 


When I may learn 

My will to thine to bend and turn, 

To meet thy mood, and more and more 
Love and adore. 


The world is dear 
And good; I dare not shed a tear. 
I sing my songs of love and praise, 
And count the days. 
DRESDEN, May, 1875. 


1 There is a German superstition that one who 
listens to the cuckoo will live as many years as he 
hears repetitions of the bird’s cry. 


NATURE AND LOVE. 


Day after day I watch the fine 
Dividing line, 

Scarcely discerned, ’twixt sea and sky ; 
Beneath me lie 

Smooth shining sands, and overhead 
Clear heavens outspread. 


Day after day, through balmy hours, 
I pluck the flowers 

From heavy-laden shrub and tree ; 
The fleur-de-lis, 

Purple and tall, and blue-eyed grass 
Bloom where I pass. 


Often the wood-bird’s clear note rings, 
And insect wings 

Flit gay and glittering down the breeze ; 
And gold-ringed bees 

Drink from a fragrant flower-cup 
Its sweet draughts up. 


2 


18 NATURE AND LOVE. 


Here ’mid the scented pines I dream, 
Until I seem 

A monarch in an ancient time, — 
A time sublime, 

When earth gave all men, frank and free, 
What she gives me. 


But often, when the restless waves 
My light boat braves, 

A mariner destined to explore 
An unknown shore 

Am I. All day beneath the sun, 
My voyage begun, 


I sing glad songs of conquering men, 
Though silent when 

The moon her pale flame lights above, 
And crowned with love. 

What in that word I half express, 
Dost thou not guess ? 


A dearer hope than nature gives 
Forever lives, 

Filling my soul. There floods my heart 
A joy apart 

From seas or flowers or glowing noons, 
Or suns or moons. 


f NATURE AND LOVE. 19 
/ Through all the glory and the grace 
I see thy face ; 
In the waves’ whisper, soft and clear, 
Thy voice I hear ; 
\ Thy smile through every hour doth fall, 
\ And blesses all. 


i] 


| 


HELEN: 


WITHOUT the walls of Troy the Grecian 
host, 

Encamped, lay, spent and weary with the 
fight. 

Eve after eve they watched the golden 
light 

Of suns whose splendors seemed to 
mock them most 

When most they prayed ; for morn on 
morn they rose 

To suffer fresh defeats and bear new 
woes. 


They could not curse, because she was 
so fair, 

The cause of all the ruin; but the bands 

Of heroes stretched to heaven beseech- 
ing hands, 

While, wrung from lips grown pallid 
with despair, 


HELEN. 21 


A cry arose throughout the camp’s do- 
main, 
Reéchoing far across the barren plain, 
Till all the midnight air 
One name did bear, — 
Helen! Helen! Helen! 


Within the walls of Troy the fires blazed 


bright, 

And song and dance were gay, and wine 
flowed free, 

Where, flushed with joy and pride and 
victory, 


They held their revels far into the night, 

Nor paused to listen to the warning 
voice 

That bade them rather tremble than re- 
joice. 


But lifting high their wine-cups crowned 
with flowers, 

“ O loveliest lady of the land of Greece, 

Whose bright eyes, bringing glory, lead 
to peace, 

We drink to thee through all the happy 
hours,” 


22 HELEN. 


They cried, and poured the crimson 
juices out, 
Pledging her deep and long with shout 
on shout, 
Till all the midnight air 
One name did bear, — 
Helen! Helen! Helen! 


Our hearts are battle-fields ; within them 
rage 

The conflicts that despair and doubt and 
pain 

With love and beauty and their count- 
less train 

Of pleasures and of pomps forever wage. 

Now Sorrow spreads her pall and claims 
the fight ; 

Now her pale hosts surrender to de- 
light. 


But whether, tossing on mad waves of 


JOY: 

I drink great draughts of rapture as of 
wine, 

Or, sunk beneath a chill and bitter 
brine, 


I lie the prey of every vile annoy, 


HELEN. 23 


One image rules each smile, controls 
each sigh, 
And like the men of old to her I cry, 
Till all the midnight air 
One name doth bear — 
Helen! Helen! Helen! 


AN EVENING RIDE. 


FROM GLASHUTTE TO MUGELN IN 
SAXONY. 


WE ride and ride. High on the hills 
The fir-trees stretch into the sky ; 
The birches, which the deep calm stills 

Quiver again as we speed by. 


Beside the road a shallow stream 
Goes leaping o’er its rocky bed: 
Here lie the corn-fields with a gleam 
Of daisies white and poppies red. 


A faint star trembles in the west; 
A fire-fly sparkles, fluttering bright 
Against the mountain’s sombre breast ; 
And yonder shines a village light. 


‘Oh! could I creep into thine arms 
Beloved ! and upon thy face 


AN EVENING RIDE. 25 


Read the arrest of dire alarms 
\ That press me close; from thy em- 
brace 


ee 


a 


/ View the sweet earth as on we ride. 


j 


{ 
\ 


. 


Alas! how vain our longings are! 
Already night is spreading wide 
Her sable wing, and thou art far. 


Swen 


DEPARTURE. 


THE hours go on. 
Up from the leaden-colored sea 
The autumn wind sweeps chillingly, 
And she is gone. 


Like tears that drain 
The heart until its springs are dry, 
So drains the sources of the sky 
The falling rain. 


The white ships sail 
Like ghosts towards some mysterious 
tryst 
Hastening ; and vanish in the mist, 
Silent and pale. 


From clasping hands 
And clinging lips, from love and care 
Of dear ones left, they dear ones bear 
To unknown lands. 


DEPARTURE. 27 


The circling shore 

Lies lonely ; the receding wave 

Moans like that whisper from the grave 
Heard evermore 


By widowed hearts: 
‘* Unfettered by the bonds of years, 
And deaf to prayers, untouched by tears, 
Each one departs.” 


O Love! O Grief! 
Your mingled notes I singing wake, 
With trust that song for her dear sake 
May bring relief. 


CUI BONO? 


WHEREFORE the vigils and the tears, 
The flight of dreams when night appears, 
The short repose, the long unrest, 

The wearied throbbings of the breast, 
And utter impotence of will; 

The shifting of the pillow till 

A dull beam strikes the window-pane 
And daylight struggles in again ? 


Were it indeed for her dear sake — 

If she might slumber while I wake — 

If, for my tossings to and fro, 

Her limbs profounder rest might know — 
But sleep, because it shuns my eyes, 

On hers no whit the gentler lies ; 

And all the tears that I can shed 

Bring no new blessing to her bed. 


O Love! how overbold art thou. 
I am thy slave; my heart I bow. 


CUI BONO? 29 


But one grace I demand of thee: 

Torture not unavailingly. 

Let mercy guide thee ; do not keep 

Chained in thy toils the swift-winged 
Sleep. 

Give me, too ceaselessly oppressed, 

A little while a little rést. 


A DREAM OF DEATH. 
HELENA. 


Du hast mich beschworen aus dem Grab 
Durch deinen Zauberwillen, 

Belebtest mich mit Wollustgluth, 
Jetzt kannst du die Gluth nicht stillen. 


Press deinen Mund auf meinen Mund, 
Der Menschen Odem ist gottlich, 
Ich trinke deine Seele aus, 
Die Todten sind unersattlich. 
HEINE. 


I died; they wrapped me in a shroud, 

With hollow mourning, far too loud, 

And sighs that were but empty sound, 

And laid me low within the ground. 

I felt Aer tears through all the rest ; 

Past sheet and shroud they reached my 
breast ; 


A DREAM OF DEATH. 3I 


They warmed to life the frozen clay, 
And I began to smile and say : 
At last thou lov’st me, Helena! 


I rose up in the dead of night ; 

I sought her window ; —’t was a-light. 

A pebble clattered ’gainst the pane, — 

*““Who’s there? the wind and falling 

rain?” 

‘* Ah! no; but one thy tears have led 

To leave his chill and narrow bed 

To warm himself before thy breath ; 

Who for thy sake has conquered death. 
Arise, and love me, Helena!” 


She oped the door, she drew me in. 
Her mouth was pale, her cheek was 
thin ; 

Her eyes were dim ; its length unrolled, 

Fell loosely down her hair of gold. 

My presence wrought her grief’s eclipse , 

She pressed her lips upon my lips, 

She held me fast in her embrace, 

Her hands went wandering o’er my face : 
At last thou lov’dst me, Helena! 


The days are dark, the days are cold, 
And heavy lies the churchyard mould. 


32 A DREAM OF DEATH. 


But ever, at the deep of night, 

Their faith the dead and living plight. 

Who would not die if certain bliss 

Could be foreknown ? and such as this 

No life— away! the hour is nigh, 

With heart on fire she waits my cry: 
Arise, and love me, Helena! 


THE BETTER PART. 


BECAUSE in love, my love! there are 
Two parts to choose, the near, the far, 
The humble moth, the glittering star ; 


Since one is vassal, one is lord, 
One the adorer, one the adored, 
One speaks, and one obeys the word ; 


Since one must watch and ever keep 
A faithful guard that one may sleep, 
Since one must sow, and one must reap ; 


Since one must wear, and one adorn, 
One pluck the rose, and one the thorn, 
One know the night, and one the morn ; 


Since one must give, and one must take, 
One yield his heart for one to break, 
Content e’en thus for love’s dear sake ; 


34 THE BETTER PART. 


I, dearest, choose the better part ; 
I choose the sorrow and the smart, 
The full surrender of the heart. 


I choose the better part to-day, 
Forever, which no fate can sway, 
And nought but death can take away. 


COMPENSATION. 


SINCE Heaven has given to me to wear 5 
The crown of love august and fair, 

Is it not fit that I should bear 

Its cross as well, without despair ? 


Since I may sow the precious seed, 

And cull its flowers to fill my need, 

Is it a fatal thing indeed 

If from their thorns my hands must 
bleed ? 


Since I may drink the draught divine 
Down to the dregs, if sometimes brine 
Be mingled with the glowing wine, 
Shall I then murmur or repine? 


O thou! who — whatsoe’er thou art, 
Thou great and universal heart ! 

Thou soul of love! since pain and smart 
Form of thy perfect whole a part, 


36 COMPENSATION. 


My destined portion let me take, 

While at thy boundless streams I slake 
My thirst and gather strength to make 
A joy of sorrow for love’s sake. 


GIFTS OF THE GODS. 


THE gods bestow on men wisdom and 
art 
To stir with noble counsel and brave 
deed 
The flagging pulses of a fellow-heart, 
And minister to need. 


To pierce the subtle secrets of the 


globe ; 

To read the records of the lands and 
seas : 

And stars that seam the midnight’s sa- 
ble robe — | 


Great Nature’s mysteries. 


And that all lore the breasts of all may 
reach, 
And into new exalted regions lift, 
They send the power of soul-compelling 
speech, 
And song’s diviner gift. 


38 GIFTS OF THE GODS. - 
' From me they veiled their higher knowl- 








edge, hid 
The paths of light and calm that lie 
above 
\ The common round — my feeble lisp- 
) ings chid, 


But taught me how to love. 


‘ 


NG 


SHADOWS. 


SHE leaned from out the mystic space 
Of Shadow-land. As on the wall 

The shapes the fire-light casts, her face 
Flickered and faded ; — that was all. 


Like phantoms starting on the wold, 
When dusk defeats the clear-eyed day, 
Her form rose; but when arms would 
hold 
And clasp, it vanished quite away. 


Now we are shadows both. Above 
The grave of hoped-for, future bliss 
Two pale wraiths stand. O Sister! 

Love ! 
Reach me thy lips. Can shadows 
kiss? 


A ROSARY. 


LIKE pearls that form a rosary, 
So lie in shining rows for me, 

Strung on a golden thread of Time, 
The precious hours I know with thee. 


And, filled with love and praise of thee, 
As one who tells his rosary, 

I count upon the beads of Time 
The benisons thou bringest me. 


Oh! may such hours still dawn for me. 
So rich in love, so filled with thee, 
And glisten on the robe of Time 
A never-ending rosary. 


HELENA’S SONG, 


BETWEEN the olives and the pines 

The vineyards slope to meet the shore. 
The sun in skies unsullied shines 

Till evening lends a charm the more. 


The fragrant breath of orange-flowers 
Perfumes the sleepy summer air, 
And all the slow-revolving hours 
A garb of pomp and beauty wear. 


What were it all, O Love! my Love! 
But that with thee its joy I know ? 

Thou art my dazzling heaven above, 
And thou my fertile field below. 


Thou art my wave-encircled land, 
And thou alone my central sea. 
My spirit leaps at thy demand 
To drown, to lose itself in thee. 


AMOR LEGGERO. 


CHE son io per te? 
Una rosa che il fiato 
Del caso ti soffia sul sentier, 
Destando nel cor tuo triste e scorag- 
giato 
Della sua primavera un breve pensier. 
Raccogli per poco |’ umil fior, 
Ed egli si muor. 


Che sei tu per me? 
Un dolce e caldo raggio 
Che manda della vita il piu bel sol, 
A ranimar nel petto i cari di del Maggio, 
Mentre il mondo intier del freddo si 
duol. 
Ma cade la notte e il mio cor 
S’ agghiaccia allor. 


Ebben, e sia cosi! 
Non pianger si picciol cosa. 


AMOR LEGGERO. 43 


Godiamo almen la fugace felicita. 
Godiamo il caldo del sol, il soave odor 
della rosa, 
Finché la notte vien e il profumo sen 
Va. 
Coprimi di baci mentre l’amor 
Vive ancor. 


BURNT SHIPS. 
See H. H.’s Sonnet, “ Burnt Ships.” 


UPON the hopeless desert of her love 

I landed, lured by glamours on her face. 

And, scarce on shore,—a_ desolate 
strange place, — 

I said, — but surely some green cedar 
grove 

Awaits me, proffering its cooling shade, 

And in its depths melodious fountains 
spring. 

So tear the canvas from the masts and 
bring 

Planks, beams, and spars until the pile 
be laid. 

Then with my own mad hands I lit the 
fire, 

And watched with fevered eyes the dark 
mass burn, 

So blotting out the prospect of return. 

But daily cools the pulse of my desire, 

And bitter is the redness of her lips. 

Oh ! god of love, why did I burn my 
ships ? 


OUTRE-MORT. 


SUPPOSE the dreaded messenger of 
death 

Should hasten steps that seem, though 
sure, so slow, 

And soon should whisper with his chilly 


breath : 

“ Arise! thine hour has sounded, thou 
must go ; 

For they that earliest taste life’s holiest 
feast 

Must early fast, lest, grown too bold, 
they dare 

Of them that follow after seize the 
share.” 

Then, though my pulse’s beat forever 
ceased, 


If where I slumbered thou shouldst 
chance to pass, 

Though grave-bound, I thy presence 
should discern. 


46 OUTRE-MORT. 


Heedless of coffin-lid and tangled grass, 

Upward to kiss thy feet my lips would 
yearn ; 

And did one spark of love thy heart in- 
flame, 

With the old rapture I should call thy 
name. 


LIGHT-HOUSES. 


WHEN pales the sunset flush along the 
sky, 

When the sea’s azure deepens into gray, 

The light-house lamps flash out across 
the bay, 

Their cheerful beams proclaiming, — 
“ This way lie 

Perils, and that way safety: ye who 
roam, 

Searching for foreign shores, with cau- 
tion steer ; 

And ye returning, lo! the land is near, 

And yonder waits the harbor which is 
home.” 

Such is thy part; thou art my beacon- 
light 

_ Standing the open passage to disclose, 

\ Against unsafe and treacherous ways to 

warn. 


48 LIGHT-HOUSES. 


~ 


Nor ever did a dark and stormy night 

Obscure my path, but that bright flame 
arose 

And shone with steadfast radiance till 
the morn. 


LAURELS. 


I WOULD cull laurels — not for pride or 
fame. 

When grave shades fall on him that lieth 
low, 

All honor shrivels to an empty name ; 

Alike are praise and blame, sunshine 

- _and snow. 

But I would pluck the rarest flowers that 
spring 

From mortal effort, gems that deepest 
sleep 

In human possibility, to fling 

Low at thy feet the gorgeous glittering 
heap, 

That endless splendors might thy name 
surround ; 

That men beholding thine imperial mien, 

And the rich jewels wherewith thou wert 

~ crowned, 

Might cry with awed, rapt voice: “ Be- 

hold the queen ! ” 


50 LAURELS. 


That thou, so greeted, might’st grow 
proud the while, 

And know love’s work and bless me with 
a smile. 


JEWELS. 


KinGs have a royal custom that I love. 
In common times bringing the priceless 


gems 
That on high féte-days crown their dia- 
dems, 
And of each stone setting the name 
- above, 


As, — This is such a pearl; such dia- 
mond this ; 

They spread them where the general eye 
may see 

And grow to brilliance in their brilliancy. 

I too have jewels, jewels of pure bliss, 

Brighter than pearls and diamonds, and 
more rare, — 

Of song, speech, silence, presence, ab- 
sence ; turn 

Which way you will their deathless 
splendors burn ; 


52 YEWELS. 


So by my mood men guess which one I 
wear, 

And in my gladness see the others shine, 

For I am faint with joy to know them 
mine. 


LIEBESBITTE. 


IN years to come I ask thee not to say: 

‘J loved him once ; once I did hold him 
dear: ” 

Ah no! long since I put that hope away, 

Arid buried it in smiles, without a tear. 

But say: ‘‘’Mid all who worshipped at 
my feet, 

Exalting me, ’mid all who loved me best, 

As I remember now, I think there beat 

No heart more fondly in a single breast, 

No eyes that brightened quicker when | 
came, 

No hand that lay more longingly in mine, 

No voice that knew a tenderer tone to 
name 

My name than his whose love seemed 
half divine.” 

If this thou say, though I be dead the 
while, 

The words will reach me, I shall hear 
and smile. 


MY QUEEN. 


SHE has been queen too long whom I 
adore, 

Mistress of men and moulder of their 
will, : 

For homage such as mine to reach the 
core 

Of her proud heart, or teach it one new 
thrill. 

Yet have I heard that royal rulers know 

Such greed for power, that, for some strip 
of land, 

Some province stored with vineyards, or 
where stand 

Long rows of waving corn and grain, 


they throw, 

Like rubbish, honor, wealth, and fame 
away, 

And, as ’t were water, spill the blood of 
men. 


If this be so, perchance to increase thy — 
sway 


MY QUEEN. 55 


By one poor heart’s extent thou ’rt fain. 
Oh! then 

Stretch out thy hand to me, and with a 
mien 

Of graciousness look on me, oh! my 
queen. 


“ONE WAY OR LOVE 


To love thee, sweet, is as if one should 
love 

A marble statue of perfected form, 

Which, on the spot that hot lips lie 
above, 

A tiny spot, grows for an instant warm : 

The moment passed, straightway ’t is 
cold again, 

Returning to its first proud lifeless 
grace ; 

Keeping no memory of the close em- 
brace, 

Nor from the warm red lips one scarlet 
stain. 

But what of that? Why should I be 
distressed 

Though thou art cold as stone? Let me 
be brave 

If but for once, and love for nothing 
save 


“ONE WAY OF LOVE.” 57 


For love’s sake only; for he loveth best 

And brightest does his flame of passion 
burn 

Who giveth all things asking no return. 


MORTALIS. 


Ir thou shouldst die, Belovéd, — fatal 


thought 

That curdles all the blood along my 
veins, 

And as with foul and poisonous vapor 
stains 


The glad day’s beauty, — though with 
anguish fraught 
Our parting, I would fain be near, that 


nought 

Might miss me of the swift and torturing 
pains 

Such loss would nourish, -- for my soul 
disdains 


A peace of ignorance or oblivion bought. 

And, Love! I would not be the first 
to go, 

Lest thy dear eyes might drop a single 
tear, 


MORTALIS. 59 


Remembering one who worshipped them 
so well; 

Or lest some sudden pang thy breast 
might know, 

When, half forgetting, thou shouldst 
chance to hear 

Some careless voice my name and story 
tell. 


THINE EYES. 


[nN other days, Belovéd, when the world 

Has stepped between us, and thou 
seem’st to be 

Far off, — when half effaced my memory 

By mists of sweeter incense round thee 
curled 

Than I can offer,—when, like dead 
leaves whirled 

Before a storm, my glad dreams break 
and flee 

Before relentless fate’s reality — 

When youth and joy their golden wings 
have furled — 

Even then, O Love! I shall not quite 
despair; 

Even then, upon my weary heart and 
sore 

A gentle after-sunset glow will rise 

And comfort me; some moments will be 
fair. 


THINE EVES. 6I 


And looking back, I still shall smile once 
more, 

Remembering the old kindness of thine 
eyes. 


DEPENDENCE. 


WHAT would life keep for me if thou 
shouldst go? 

Belovéd, give me answer; for my art 

Is pledged unto thy service, and my 
heart 

Apart from thee nor joy nor grace doth 
know. 

No arid desert, no wide waste of snow, 

Looks drearier to exiled ones who start 

On their forced journey than, shouldst 
thou depart, 

This fair green earth to my dead hope 
would show. 

And like a drowning man who struggling 
clings 

With stiffened fingers to the rope that 
saves, 

Thrown out to meet his deep need from 
the land, 

So to thy thought I hold when sorrow’s 
wings 


DEPENDENCE. 63 


‘ Darken the sky, and ’mid the bitterest 


waves 


\ Of fate am succored by thy friendly 
\ hand. 


\ 
\, 


SUBMISSION. 


Gop forbid, dearest, that I should com- 
plain 

However hard and heavy be the cross 

Thou bidst me carry; since to me all 
loss 

Incurred for thee turns straightway into 
gain, 

And by the side of thine inflicted pain 

All pleasure won from others is as dross 

Beside pure gold. Like summer winds 
that toss 

The branches of the trees whose trunks 
remain 

Unmoved, so sweep the floods of cir- 
cumstance, 

Ruffling alone the current of my mood, 

While my soul’s deep repose they can- 
not shake. 

But at a word of thine, before thy glance, 

My spirit bows, knowing thy will is good, 

Eager to do or suffer for thy sake. 


POVIOS) CALENDAR: 


I TAKE no heed of month, or week, or 
day, 

Or of the times and seasons of the year. 

Springtime it is with me when she is 


near, 

And winter when the clouds of absence 

_ Stray 

Across my heaven, holding its sun at 
bay. 

The morning dawns when her dear eyes 
appear, 

And night shuts down upon me, blank 
and drear, 

When those consoling orbs are taken 
away. 

As earth is gladdened when the snows 
depart, 

When woods and meadows are no longer 
bare, 


But tender blossoms nestle in the grass, 
5 


66 LOVE'S CALENDAR. 


So, when my Love approaches, to my 
heart 

Her balmy breath brings floods of sum- 
mer air, 

And fresh flowers spring where’er her 
footsteps pass. 


ISLANDS. 


“ Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas.”” — BROWNING. 


BEYOND the sea-coast, where the level 


sea 
Stretches its shining length, some isle 
must rest, 
Cradled upon the ocean’s bounteous 
breast, 


Where men might live untrammelled, 
glad, and free. 

Out of life’s babbling current there must 
be 

Some unsuspected isle, Love’s dear be- 
quest 

To those who follow him, where, safe 
and blest, 

Oh! my beloved, I might dwell with 
thee. 

But ships are not found strong enough 
to bear 


68 ISLANDS. 

Adventurers over every ocean’s foam ; 

Not all my thought, not all my love and 
care, 

Can build the bark in which we two 
might roam ; 

So still my voice assails the unheeding 
air 

With vain lamentings for that island 
home. 


SNOW-DROPS. 


ALREADY once I’ve brought you snow- 
drops, dear, 

From an old garden whose forgotten 
grace 

Seemed to revive again a little space 

To do you honor. Though March winds 
blow drear 

And chill, yet, with sweet sense that 
spring is near, 

These brave and hardy buds the snow 
displace ; 

Showing, each one, a white and shining 
face, — 

The earliest flowers of the awakening 
year. 

So, like the-snow-drops, once for me 
there grew, 

Amid the snows of life, pure blossoms, 
when 


70 SNOW-DROPS. 


Your smile first rested on me, and I 


knew 

My springtime was at hand. To-day, 
again, 

The flowers of spring and love I bring 
to you, 


With heart unchanged and faithful now 
as then. 


LOVE’S ABODE. 


Up the white steps that lead to Love’s 
abode 

I hastened, tarrying by the golden gate. 

“Ruler of gods and men,” I cried, “I 


wait 

To pay my homage here where most ’tis 
owed!” 

Then the bright gate swung open, and 
bestowed 


An entrance, and Love’s servants in 
sweet state 

Came out to meet and welcome me. 
Elate 

And proud, I followed where the way 
they showed : 

They led me to the temple door, whence 
gleam 

Soft lights, whence sweet scents float 
upon the air. 


V2 LOVE’S ABODE. 


“ Here wait our master’s voice,” they 
said, and then — 

They left me. When shall I be called, 
oh when, 

Into the inner sanctuary, where, 

Amid his chosen ones, Love reigns 
supreme? 


STORM AND CALM. 


WHILE LISTENING TO A ST. SAENS CON- 
CERTO. 


THE waves of love will dash me on a 
shore 

Trackless and waste, whence there is no 
return. 

My mast is split, my rudder gone; 
they burn 

Like glowing coals, —these icy waves 
that pour 

Across my shattered deck; the mad 
winds tore 

Long since my sails in shreds. The 
black heavens yearn 

To clasp the deep; no star can I dis- 
cern 

That might direct me till the storm were 
o’er. 

So rose the cry of one in agony, 


74 STORM AND CALM. 


Tossed on wide floods of passion, doubt, 
and dread. 

Then, as a clear morn smiles upon the 
sea, 

When a wild night has spread its wings 
and fled, 

So thy sweet eyes arose and shone on 
me, 

And peace and calm upon my soul were 
shed. 


SERVING. 


THAT thou ’rt not yet all mine why 
should I care ? 

Why grieve because the draught is scant 
and thin 

Which thy love offers for my tasting in 

Its fragile cup, at moments short and 
rare? 

Fool should I be thus early to despair ! 

The labors of my love but now begin. 

Twice seven long years did Jacob serve 


to win 

Rachel, and dwelt with her long days 
and fair ; 

So I will serve for thee; from land to 
land 

Gleaning and gathering, until twice seven 
years, 


And more, if need be, on their path shall 
roll ; 


76 SERVING. 


With fond assurance that we two shall 
stand 

At last, together, ’mid the blessed 
spheres 

Of love’s domain, united soul to soul. 


THE BURDEN OF LOVE. 


I BEAR an unseen burden constantly ; 

Waking or sleeping I can never thrust 

The load aside; through summer’s heat 
and dust 

And winter’s snows it still abides with 
me. 

I cannot let it fall though I should be 

Never so weary; carry it I must. 

Nor can the bands that bind it on me 
rust 

Or break, nor ever shall I be set free. 

Sometimes ’t is heavy as the weight that 
bore 

Atlas on giant shoulders; sometimes 
light 

As the frail message of the carrier dove ; 

But, light or heavy, shifting never more. 

What is it thus oppressing, day and 
night ? 

The burden, dearest, of a mighty love. 


A SIMILE- 


AT sea, far parted from the happy shore, 

The solitary rock lies all unmoved 

By the caressing waves, though unre- 
proved 

Their constant kisses on its breast they 
pour. 

So it stands witnessed by all human 
lore, 

Where’er the wanton god of love has 
roved, 

His shafts fell never equal; one be- 
loved, 

One lover, there must be for evermore. 

Dear, if thou wilt, be thou that rock at 
sea, 

But let me be the waves that never leave 

Their yearning towards it through the 
ocean space ; 

{ And be thou the belovéd, but let me 
Be the fond lover destined to receive 
And hold thee in love’s infinite embrace. 


BLOSSOMS OF LOVE. 


Suggested by Dante Rossetti’s Sonnet, “ Passion 
and Worship.” 


THE blossoms of my love are many-hued 

And manifold: some glow like tongues 
of fire 

With the hot dyes of passionate desire ; 

And some are white as snow, and heavy- 
dewed 

With fallen tears; with modesty im- 
bued, 

Some bow their heads; some, purple- 
robed, aspire 

To flaunt before the world their proud 
attire ; 

Some, soberer tinted, blush in solitude. 

And all these varied blooms I watch and 
tend 

And guard with constant care, untir- 
ingly, 

That they new grace and beauty may 
possess ; 


80 BLOSSOMS OF LOVE. 


And many a busy day and night I spend 

In weaving of their wealth a crown for 
thee. 

Belovéd, wilt thou wear it? Answer 
yes. 


DEPRECATION. 
ESTRELLA TO ALFONSO. 


A PALLID nun behind the iron bars 

Of fate, I sit and watch the roses blow 

That are for others with wan smiles; 
and so 

I hear thy song sweep past me to the 
stars. 

Like haughty conquerors in triumphal 
cars, 

Thy mad hopes ride within thy breast, 
and go 

Dauntlessly into realms I do not know, 

And my pale peace thy passion breaks 


and mars. 

O friend! cease, therefore, thy wild min- 
strelsy; 

No chord responsive vibrates in my 
breast, 


6 


82 DEPRECA TION. 


And its dead ashes stir not at thy call. 

Then, for thy love’s sake, since thou 
lovest me, 

Silence the voice I may not answer, lest, 

Striving to flee from it, I faint and fall. 


NEPENTHE, 


Unto Telemachus, who, journeying, 
sought 

At Menelaus’ court tidings to hear 

Of great Odysseus, tarrying year on 
year, 

The fair-armed Helen sweet refreshment 
brought, — 

Nepenthe, Eastern juice. Such charm 
it wrought 

That whoso tasted it could shed no tear 

A whole day long: though all he held 
most dear 

Were struck with death, he knew and 
suffered naught. 

So thou, a later Helen, bringest me 

A draught wherein oblivion and repose 

In cunning portions are together blent. 

I drink : my tears are dry, my soul can 
see 

No ill, and even sorrow’s memory grows 

Forgotten in a nameless, deep content. 


SY SOTHP. 


A WISE and famous nation held belief, 

Whoever in prosperity o’ergrew 

The bounds of temperate good, him 
would pursue 

The ever-jealous gods with loss and 
grief. 

Sometimes so golden is my harvest’s 
sheaf, 

My way so flowery and my heaven so 
blue, 

I tremble lest, perchance, the immortals 
brew 

A storm to prove my fortune’s sudden 
thief. 

But thou art my preserver even here, 

And earn’st me mercy from the envious 
skies ; 

Since, lacking thee, I lack the one thing 
dear, 


SY SOTHP. 85 


Which only were life’s first and fairest 
prize ; 

For other joys are barren all and drear, 

Beside that one which a stern fate de- 
nies. 


IN A. LETTER: 


THERE came a breath out of a distant 
time, | 

An odor from neglected gardens where 

Unnumbered roses once perfumed the 
air 

Through summer days, in childhood’s 
happy clime. 

There came the salt scent of the sea, the 
chime 

Of waves against the beaches or the 
bare, 

Gaunt rocks; as to the mind, half una- 
ware, 

Recur the words of some familiar rhyme. 

And as above the gardens and the sea 

The moon arises, and her silver light 

Touches the landscape with a deeper 
grace, 


IN A LETTER. 87 


So o’er the misty wraiths of memory, 

Turning them into pictures clear and 
bright, 

Rose in a halo the beloved face. 


CUT Les 


Born sovereigns have no names but 
those bestowed 

In baptism; Constance, Philip, — so each 
age 

Knows them, and deals of praise or 
blame their wage, 

As harvests of good fame or ill they 
sowed. 

So with the mighty, o’er whose cradle 
glowed 

The star of genius ; with that heritage 

Dante and Raphael shine on history’s 
page 

Simple as when they walked our com- 
mon road. 

Like thy great namesake, in whose cause 
the plain 

Of Troy was strewn with corpses, while 
above 


TITLES. 89 


Olympus heard the wrathful gods con- 
tend, 

So, ’mid the homage of respect and love 

Laid at thy feet by lover and by friend, 

Helen thou art, and Helen must remain. 


AFTER ABSENCE, 


AFTER Jong years of absence had gone 
by, 

He stood again upon the parent shore 

Of stern New England; but his heart 


was sore, 

And his dulled bosom rent with many a 
sigh. 

He mourned the vanished gods, the ra- 
diant sky 

Of the dear land of love and song and 
lore ; 

He mourned the sweet companionships 
of yore, 

That on his path like scattered pearls 
did lie. 

But when she passed, as in the former 
days, 


With the old halo on her golden hair, 
With the old kindness and enchanting 
ways, 


AFTER ABSENCE. OI 


’T was as if some swift wind had cleared 
the air; 

Before her smile he stood transfixéd 
there ; 

zfe had forgotten that she was so fair. 


BONDAGE. 


“ AND this is freedom!” cried the serf; 
‘SAtiast 

I tread free soil, the free air blows on 
me; ” 

And, wild to learn the sweets of liberty, 

With eager hope his bosom bounded 
fast. 

But not for naught had the long years 
amassed 

Habit of slavery ; among the free 

He still was servile, and, disheartened, 
he 

Crept back to the old bondage of the 
past. 

Long did I bear a hard and heavy chain 

Wreathéd with amaranth and asphodel, 

But through the flower-breaths stole the 
weary pain. 

I cast it off and fled, but ’t was in vain ; 

For when once more I passed by where 
it fell, 

I took it up and bound it on again. 


WITCH-HAZEL. 


*T 1s said that ’mid the sylvan shrubs 
that grow 

One has a wizard power above the rest ; 

Held o’er the soil it points its leafy 
crest 

To where the hidden sources sleep be- 
low. 

How must the gentle earth rejoice when 
flow 

The pent-up streams and ease the aching 
breast, 

Grown sore with guarding them! And 
ah, how blest 

Those springs to men who need of water 
know ! 

Beloved, at thy touch the entire bliss 

Of being floods me; in my heart straight- 
way 

Songs rise and gush and murmur with- 
out end. 


04. WITCH-HAZEL. 


And, dear, who knows but that, per- 
chance, some day, ' 

Some one may be a little glad for this 

That thou hast wrought, and bless thee 
through thy friend ? 


CALM. 


See H. H.’s Sonnet, “ The Zone of Calms.” 


HERE let us rest within ‘‘the zone of 


calms,” 

Found now at last, whose delicate mys- 
teries 

Escaped us on the old tempestuous 
seas, 


Though ¢hezr best gifts this charméd 
space embalms. 
Here are soft shadows as of darkling 


palms, 
Whose branches faintly rustle in the 
breeze # 


Of summer morns, and gentle melodies 
As of hushed voices chanting low sweet 


psalms. 

The tyrant Time, plying his ceaseless 
oar, 

Will bear us farther all too soon, we 
know, — 


Eastward and westward, parted as be- 
fore. 


gO CALM. 


But while we linger yet, each opposite 
shore 

Still indistinct, take speech, O Love, 
once more, 

And bless the rapturous stillness ere we 
go! 


SYMPHONIE FANTASTIQUE. 


WE heard the symphony wherein the 
brain 

Of the mad poet fancies his love to be 

A sweet, ever-recurring melody, 

Piquing to pleasure, ministering to pain. 

Now ball-rooms echo it, now wood and 


plain 

Take up the burden; joyous now and 
free 

It sounds, now sad and fraught with 
mystery : 


All life is interwoven with that strain. 

Thou art the melody of all my days, 

I but an accidental note in thine, 

Its value unobserved by alien ears. 

Remove it, still thy music is as fine ; 

But take thee from me, and the void dis- 
plays 

Discord and inharmonious fall of tears. 

7 


IDEM NON ALITER. 


Say not the charm is broken ; that the old 

Rapture has faded to a cool content ; 

That flowers so sweet at morn w#zust lose 
their scent, 

When toward life’s noon experience shall 
have rolled. 

Nor whisper that the tale so often told 

Fails in some measure of its blandish- 
ment; 

Nor that the chord jangles wherein were 
blent 

All harmonies that music’s voices hold. 

Ah, dear, a shining isle forever lies 

Beyond the track of ships, in the still sea, 

Where chains are hid in wooing, soft 


disguise. 

More blest than freedom seems cCaptiv- 
ity ; 

For the old Circe looks from out thine 
eyes, 


And thy Odysseus does not wish to flee. 


foe oLEEPING BEAUTY. 


if 


GUARDED by walls of roses set with 
thorns, 

Within her palace-room the princess 
slept, 

Nor heard how through the wood the 
loud chase swept, 

With bay of hounds and note of. hunt- 


ing-horns. 

Into some dream of summer eves and 
morns 

Perchance a sudden thrill prophetic 
crept, 


As to her side one eager hunter leapt, 

Made strong by love that bans and bar- 
riers scorns. 

Before his tread,—as at some sharp 
blade’s stroke 

A flower might fall, — the deep enchant- 
ment broke. 


100 THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 


He pressed his lips to hers in love’s long 


kiss ; 

And as her name in rapturous tone he 
spoke, 

With happy, smiling eyes the princess 
woke 


To meet the new and unsuspected bliss. 


it: 


Once more in slumbering state a princess 
lay, 

~ While in the shadow of her palace-walls 

Unheeded died the glad and pleading 
calls ; 

Of love and joy the outer world that 
Sway. 

But when towards evening sped her 
peaceful day, 

Despite a charm that soul and sense en- 
thralls, 

Into the stillness of her perfumed halls, 

On fire with love, I made my venturous 
way. 

Lo! I have waked her with my ardent 
lips ; 


THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. IO! 


Have seen the warm blood mantle in her 
cheek 

That surged impetuous round my own 
heart’s core. 

Yet once again she sank in sleep’s 
eclipse. 

Oh, be more powerful now the word I 
speak, 

The touch I give! Sweet princess, sleep 
no more ! 


FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 


FRIENDSHIP sat smiling on a flowery 
height, 

Watching the blooming groves, the 
meadows green, 

The peaceful stream that flowed the 
fields between. 

“How rich my realm,” she breathed, 
“how glad, how bright!” 

But on a sudden fell a purple light, 

Deepening the tranquil beauty of the 
scene, 

Tingeing with amethyst hue the river’s 
sheen, 

As Love drew near in majesty and 
might. 

“This is my kingdom, sister!” quick 
he cried. 

‘““My paths are not all stormy; there 
is calm 


FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 103 


Upon my mountains, and clear skies 


above. 

This radiant land thou viewest bears my 
balm, 

Profounder far than thine.” Then 


Friendship sighed, 
But rose, and yielded up her seat to 
Love. 


THE TROUBADOUR. 


TuHou Troubadour, roaming from land 
to land, 

Singing, indeed, we grant, one endless 
theme, — 

Thy lady’s praise, — and striving to re- 
deem 

The pledges laid on thee by Love’s com- 
mand, 

We are the truer lovers, we who stand 

Beside our mistress, though no silver 
stream 

Of song escape our lips. Thou art the 
dream, 

We the realities her eyes have scanned. 

‘‘Know ye,” he answered, “ how those 
lilies grow 

That on the lake’s breast seem to float 
apart 

And free, though fastened firm their 
roots below? 


THE TROUBADOUR. 105 


/ Thus do I seem before the wind and 

| tide 

| Of chance and change to sway from 

| side to side ; r 

\ But still my heart is anchored to her | 

‘ heart.” 
\ 


\. 


“THE GREER Your 


‘““HE goes,” she said: “there, at the 
opening door, 

I see a shimmer as of snowy wings ; 

’Tis his white robe that as he passes 
flings 

Its shining undulation o’er the floor.” 

But while she spoke, his fond arms as 


before 

Held her, his kiss burned on her lips; 
as sings 

Some woodland bird, his voice’s mur- 
murings 

Thrilled with the joyous weight of love 
he bore. 

’T was but the moonlight of thine own 
sad eyes 

That cast my shadow; in thy silver 
sphere, 


Half dusk, half light, ghosts start at any 
breath. 


pe ee GREEK YOUTH.” 107 


I bring the sunshine ; in it no surprise 

Can come, no shade can walk. Lo! I 
am here, 

Belovéd, and shall be here unto death. 


WANDERLEBEN. 


HE has no home, he owns no father- 
land ; 

His country is the hospitable earth. 

He shapes his course where, past the 
fields of dearth, 

The planet’s greenest groves of plenty 
stand ; 

But howsoever golden be the strand 

He treadeth, clearer than the sound of 
mirth 

And laughter steals the voice that still 
gives birth 

To his best joy, more potent than com- 
mand. 

Again and once again his ship he steers 

Into one harbor, hastening to the saint 

Before whose shrine his constant offer- 
ing glows. 

He heaps his treasure, won with blood 
and tears, 


WANDERLEBEN. [O09 


There at her feet ; praying, without com- 
plaint, 

Leave but to worship as he comes and 
goes, 


HER ROSES: 


AGAINST her mouth she pressed the 
rose, and there, 

’Neath the caress of lips as soft and red 

As its own petals, quick the bright bud 
spread 

And oped, and flung its fragrance on the 
air. 

It ne’er again a bud’s young grace can 
wear ? 

O love, regret it not! It gladly shed 

Its soul for thee, and though thou kiss 
it dead 

It does not murmur at a fate so fair. 

Thus, once, thou breath’dst on me, till 
every germ 

Of love and song broke into rapturous 
flower, 

And sent a challenge upwards to the 
sky. 


HER ROSES. a eg 


What if too swift fruition set a term 

Too brief to all things? I have lived 
my hour, 

And die contented, since for thee I die. 


AT THE CONV 


I CANNOT pass beyond the jealous gate 

And the high walls that, rising stern and 
grim, 

Shut you, like sullen guards, within the 
dim 

Mysterious space no man may penetrate. 

But I can guess how the gray nuns 


chide. Date 

Thou comest, sister; still thy lamp’s to 
trim. 

Thy clear voice failed us in the evening © 
hymn 

Wherewith the grace of Heaven we sup- 
plicate.” 


Dear, as some paltry coin a lady might 

Fling to appease a beggar, ere you go 

Into your quiet cell and all is night, 

Tarry a moment at the casement; throw 

The guerdon of your smile, his way to 
light, 

On your poor errant minstrel down be-_ 
low. 


FAUST AND HELENA. 


I. 


WHEN all that life contains of rich and 
good, 

Being his own, had failed to bring con- 
tent 

To Faust, there rose the form wherein 
were blent 

All graces of all beauty’s sisterhood : 

Victorious Helen, young as when first 
wooed 

By Theseus ; lovely as when heroes bent 

Their steps to death, and seas of blood 
were spent, 

To win her, fairest of the heavenly 
brood. 

But from his longing arms, that thus at 
last 

Embraced the shade of beauty and were 
blest, 


114. FAUST AND HELENA. 


She fled to pale Persephone’s domain. 
Oh, risen again, sweet spirit! let the 


past 

Yield to the present; here upon my 
breast 

Forget the courts that wait for thee in 
vain. 


II. 


As unto Faust, when all life holds had 
failed 

To bring content, the Beauteous One 
returned, 

Summoned from Hades, at whose sight 
gods burned, 

And goddesses with sudden envy paled, 

So, when the banquet of this world re- 
galed 

fy spirit poorly, all for which it yearned 

Rose in thy presence, and my eyes dis- 


cerned 

In thine the whole of loveliness un- 
veiled. 

But from his clasping arms the vision 
fled 


Back to the silent realms, and once more 
left 


FAUST AND HELENA. 115 


Him lone, unsatisfied, and desolate. 
Sweet, vanish never, lest my heart, 
bereft, 
\ Consume itself with longing for its dead 
\ Delight, and to despair be consecrate. 


% 


% 
*% 


TWO FIGURES. 


Ong, like a creature born of brighter 
spheres 

Than these we know, a child of joy and 
light, 

Brought gladness, beauty, and love’s 
blesséd might, 

Worship and praise and reverence shorn 
of fears. 

And one, receiving all that most endears 

Soul unto soul, and maketh sweet the 


sight 

Of him that gives, the offering to re- 
quite, . 

Placed in the other’s hand an urn of 
tears. 

Love veiled his brows, and would have 
fled; but lo! 


There came a whisper from the giver’s 
breast 


TWO FIGURES. I17 


That stayed his fluttering wings and held 
him back : 

“Upon my head these gathered tears 
bestow 

A great and softening grace it else would 
lack, — 

The crown of sorrow. Dear, thy gift is 
best.” 


eae 


SERVICE, 


SHOW me some way in which my soul 


may serve 

Thy soul, its nourisher; teach me to 
say 

Some word to ease thy heart with, or to 
lay 


Soothing upon a sore and startled nerve ; 

Let me aspire to lend some gracious 
curve 

To the straight lines dividing day from 
day ; 

Help me to hold the errant feet that 
stray 

In paths of constancy that never swerve. 

Sometimes I fail to reach thee, the 
ascent 

Being so steep to where thou dwell’st; 
in vain 

My hands are rich with gifts thou canst 
not take. 


SERVICE. 119 


But could I see my life blood, for thy 
sake, 

To profit thee, flow in a crimson stain, 

Dear, I believe that I could die content. 


COMMUNION. 


ONE cannot draw the bars against the 
friends 

And guests that crowd for entrance at 
his gate ; 

He opes, inviting, nor the simple state 

Of his abode against their train defends. 

But there are chambers where the lover 
tends 

His sacred fires; where no feet pene- 
trate, 

Save of immortals; where, early and 
late, 

The breath of prayer and sacrifice as- 
cends. 

In such a spot as this, as in the shrine 

Of some white temple, in a dusk made 
sweet 

With incense, far from outer noise and 
heat, 


COMMUNION. I2I 


And hollow haste of them that part and 
meet, 

Surrounded by dim presences divine, 

My soul communes eternally with thine. 












ry 





ne ee i) va 
ih ingest die 
As te Pee ee 

: ee ay oe 1 


MISCELLANEOUS. 





IMPATIENCE. 


I sEE the ships go sailing, sailing ; 
My feet are fettered to the shore. 
Their prows with many a voyage are 
hoar. 
See! on the far horizon paling, 
They sink and are no more. 


I see the birds go flying, flying ; 
In swaying line and whirling ring, 
’Twixt blue and blue, their way they 
wing ; 
But the swift flocks, through ether ply- 
ing, 


To me no message bring. 


I see the moon go riding, riding, 
Through heavenly paths, on golden 
wheels ; 
Her passing kiss the ocean feels, 
But, in his bosom swiftly hiding 
His joy, no word reveals. 


126 IMPATIENCE. 


O golden moon, and snowy pinions 
Of birds that fly and ships that mate 
Their speed with birds, in royal state 
Sweep proudly through your wide do- 
minions ! 
And I, —I only wait. 


IM FREIEN. 


Icu gehe immer und schweige: 
Dort oben ein Véglein singt ; 

Und durch die Fichtenzweige 
Die freundliche Sonne dringt. 


Die Blumen bliihn auf den Wiesen, 
Die Liifte wandelnd gehn; 

Weit in der Ferne, wie Riesen, 
Die hohen Gebirge stehn. 


Die lieblichen Schatten liegen 
Auf der Erde kiihler Brust; 
Die weissen Wolken fliegen 
Im Himmel und tanzen vor Lust. 


Oh! schGne, theure Erde, 
Du ziehst mich an dein Herz 

Mit lockender Geberde ; 
Verschwunden ist jeder Schmerz. 


128 IM FREIEN. 


Verschwunden sind Wehen und Leiden, 
Vergessen Eile und Hast ; 

Es wecken nur Wonne und Freuden ; 
Es bleiben nur Ruhe und Rast. 


PROPITIATION. 


A FRESH wind blows against the land: 
The crested waves toss to and fro; 

The swelling waves and shining sand 
Glitter like rifts of frozen snow. 


The breath of morn lies soft and dim 
Upon the sea; the tender trace 

Of pink along the horizon’s rim 
Her lips left in the azure space. 


So on the threshold of the morn, 
Before the unclosing door I wait ; 
Will hope expire ? Will joy be born ? 
How stands it in the book of fate? 


O august sisters, sisters three, 
Who hold the distaff, spin the thread, 
And weave all human destiny 
Into a pattern bright or dread, 
9 


130 PROPITIA TION. 


I ask no boon of you; desire 
And fear ye know ; I only bring 
In words that morning hours inspire 
Propitiatory offering. 


And though no altars rise apart 
Where men your awful praise re- 
hearse, 
I build an altar in my heart, 
And on it lay my pleading verse. 


MUSA LOQUITUR. 


CuILD ! thine aspiring sense divines, 
Doubtless, the voice that speaks to 
thee. 
Arise! across yon tossing sea 
A path of light and glory shines. 
It leads unto the fields of art, 
Whose golden harvests thou may’st 
reap, 
And ’mid thy garnered treasures keep, 
If humble and devout of heart. 


Go, dwell with gods and heroes ; learn 
The lessons mighty marbles teach, 
And of the laurel-crowned _ their 

speech 

That through the centuries doth burn. 


Then lowly kneel at Nature’s feet, 
And from her beating bosom draw 
Wisdom, without whose perfect law 

The best of art were incomplete. 


132 MUSA LOQUITUR. 


Listen, in climes of warmth and light, 
To the sweet-throated nightingales. 
Watch, till the morn’s embrace pre- 

vails, 

The starry splendors of the night. 


On shores where placid waters roll, 
Invite the breezes of the South, 
Till their fleet kisses pass thy mouth 
And penetrate thine inmost soul. 


Then, when thy voice grows full and 
strong, 
When all within, without, is fair, 
Pierce with thy call the expectant air, 
And wake thy lyre to Lesbian song. 


WAKING. 


I WOKE once more. 

The spheréd ocean-spaces lay, 
Empty and vast, behind, before, 

Where we must blindly trace our way 
From unknown shore to unknown shore. 


The moon’s cold gleam 
Was faint with morn ; the stars had 
paled ; 
But chanting one incessant theme 
Of loss and sorrow, they bewailed 
The fading of my happy dream. 


O bitter sea, 
They cried, whereon he floats alone 
And joyless, now his dream and he 
Have parted, whose divine light shone 
Cresting the waves of memory! 


134 WAKING. 


O envious fate, 
Whose ruthless hand the vision tore, 
And robbed his bosom of the freight 
So dear, so matchless, that it bore, 
And left it bare and desolate ! 


So swelled the song 

From star to star; and like a stain 
Upon the morning, rolled along 

The sea the echo of the strain, 
Ceaseless regret for grief and wrong. 


But then my heart 
That strove for courage, and would 
hide, 
If that might be, in smiles its smart, 
With words half true, half false, re- 
plied : 
Of man’s great load each lifts his part. 


And why despair ? 
Surely these morning clouds shall 
change 
To evening clouds, and they will bear 
Fresh dreams along their fleecy range, , 
And with new landscapes paint the air, 


WAKING. 135 


Until the last 
Deep sleep, when over all the woes 
Of love and life the earth is cast, 
And, stilled in absolute repose, 
Dreaming and waking both are past. 


THE ROSE AND THES 722000 


THE Rose said to the Statue: Thou art 
cold 
And passionless, though beautiful 
and grand. 
I all my life exhale, while thou dost 
stand 
Unmoved, unmindful of the sweets I 
hold. 


The Statue answered to the Rose: Thou 


poor, 

Frail creature, toy and wanton of a 
day, 

I scarce can stoop to note thy swift 
decay ; 


Lo! thou art fading zow, but 7 endure. 


Thus each reproached the other: neither 
thought 
What various means lead to an end 
the same ; 


THE ROSE AND THE STATUE. 137 


How manifold is beauty, and what 
claim 
To the world’s gratitude the other 
brought. 


O Statue! shine in majesty, replete 
With high suggestions of eternal 


things. 
O Rose! yield up thy breath and die; 
the wings 
Of love receive it, for thy breath is 
sweet. 


‘ One must be cold and suffer, —’tis 
earth’s blight ; 
One must be warm and suffer. Thus 


the poles 
Touch in a law unchanging; but the 
souls 


\ Of Statue and of Rose can ne’er unite. 
\ 


WONDERS. 
TO! EB 


IT is a wonder when the day 
Breaks from the portals of the night, 
And with her joyous smile and bright, 
Crowns the high hills where darkness 
lay, 
And floods the outstretching plains 
with light. 


A wonder when the bud perceives 
How tight its petals press, and grows 
Impatient of control, and throws, 
Nourished by dews of morns and eves, 
Wide in the air the perfect rose. 


Or when the gilded butterfly 
Wakes from the sleep in which were 
furled 
The joyous wings about him curled ; 


WONDERS. 139 


And breaks the shell, and, floating high, 
Goes on his glad way through the 
world. 


But greater marvels even than these 
Are such as harbor in the soul, 
Like words within some fast-sealed 
scroll, 
Concealing close what mysteries ! 
Till strikes the hour, and they unroll ; 


When eyes once cold, that looked 
askance, 
Kindle at ours, and send a ray 
Of warmth and cheer along our way, 
And with their deep and tender glance 
Herald the dawn of love’s new day ; 


When lips we never thought to taste 
Thrill ’neath our own; when fond 
arms reach 
About us; when quick heart-beats 
teach 
How burns the breast we hold em- 
braced, — 
Love’s signs more eloquent than 
speech. 


140 WONDERS. 


When these things are, should we not 
lift 
The heart to Heaven with thankful 
prayer 
That, working wonders everywhere, 
It wrought for us this gracious gift, 
Than which no other is more fair? 


Dear, while I whisper, bend thy cheek 
A little nearer ; where my strong 
Deep praise and sweet new joy belong 

Thou know’st; the sense of what I speak, 
The happy secret of my song. 


IN MEMORIAM. 


B. H. C. 
AT SORRENTO. 


I, 


THE Summer strews with lavish hand 
Her gems upon this Southern shore ; 
With gold and emeralds glows the land, 

And sapphires form the ocean’s floor. 


The sun a glittering ruby gleams ; 
Each star a topaz; while the mist 
That o’er the mountain summits streams 
Is set with many an amethyst. 


Unto the evening’s gates of pearl 
There leads an opal-pavéd way, 
And pearly are the clouds that curl 

About the bosom of the day. 


I42 LN MEMORIAM. 


But oft upon the radiant scene 

Thy image, O my friend, appears, 
And all the jewels that have been 

Are changed to diamonds in my tears. 


II. 


With flowers and lights the altars 
blazed ; 

The white-robed priests, with crosses 
raised 

And banners fluttering, onward came 

’Mid many a candle’s flickering flame. 

The gentle dusk its mantle wrapped 

About the landscape; quiet lapped 

The land, until the pious throng 

Uplifted a thanksgiving song. 


Then, held on high, that over all 

With equal light its rays might fall, 
And equal grace to all afford, 

Was borne the Body of the Lord. 

And, at its sight, upon their knees 
The people fell as when a breeze 
Sweeps o’er the summer earth at morn, 
Bowing a field of uncut corn. 


LIN MEMORIAM. 143 


Why should thy spirit seem to shine 

Here, where a creed so unlike thine 

Lavished the treasures of its art, 

And through the senses touched the 
heart ? 

I know not; but as with the rest 

I knelt, thy memory dear and blest, 

A living presence seemed to be, 

And sacred grew the hour to me. 


FROM NAPLES TO ROME. 


THE sun set; the wide Campagna 
Stretched about us like a sea, 
Miles on miles of billowy distance ; 
Scarce a limit seemed to be 
To the great immensity, 


Till upon the far horizon, 
Through the mist the hills rose 
higher, 
And upon three tallest summits, 
Shooting, like a golden spire, 
Heavenwards, blazed a beacon fire. 


And we knew that in the evening 
Stillness, where the eternal dome 
Rises over tower and palace, 
Lay our long-desired home, — 
Lay the great enchantress, Rome. 


FROM NAPLES TO ROME. 145 


Watch-fires kindled by the ages, 
Where the passing moments pour 
All the present’s shifting fuel 
On the accumulated store 
Till the pile glows more and more, 


To the grand and wondrous precincts 
Of her hoary walls invite. 
And, with longing for the morning 
To reveal them to our sight, 
Grateful hearts thanked God that 
night. 


GIARDINO GIUSTI. 


CLAD in a garb of centuries, 
Like solemn warders of the past, 
Above its secret hoards amassed, 
Stand the funereal cypress-trees. 


And each to each they nod and wave, 
And whisper how the king of kings 
Is death, and how all human things 

Bloom but to wither in the grave. 


But, down below, the city lies, 
Near where the shining river runs 
Within whose breast a thousand suns 
Are mirrored from the cloudless skies. 


And crowded market-place and square 
And street with fluttering flags are 
gay, 
And all the glad life of to-day 
Pulses and surges everywhere. 


GIARDINO GIUSTI. 147 


For ’neath the Past’s almighty shade 
The careless Present keeps its cheer ; 
And though the end is sure and near, 

Yet we press onward undismayed. 


VERONA, December, 1878. 


FOUNTAINS IN ROME. 


BEFORE St. Peter’s, like the wreaths 
Of spotless snow that o’er the bare 

Sad earth the pitying winter breathes, 
The proud jets flash into the air. 

But where the water breaks and falls 
And meets the sun, with every gem 

It glows wherewith shall deck her walls 
One day the new Jerusalem. 


While here, beside a mighty pile 
Where spoils of splendid ages gleam, 
The Triton, with an endless smile, 
Uplifts to heaven his slender stream. 
And there Bernini’s grotesque taste 
With nymphs and gods the square 
adorns ; 
And giant groups in circle placed 
Fill the wide basins from their horns. 


Here Trevi, whose enchanted pool, 
When hearts with parting anguish 
burn, 


FOUNTAINS IN ROME. 149 


Will yield in draughts divinely cool 
Consoling promise of return; 
Where come the doves to bathe and 
drink, 
And seek for shade amid the glare 
\ Of noon, beneath the fountain’s brink, 
Or ’mid the mermen’s clustering hair. 


But these, the body’s thirst that slake, 
That pour in many a loved retreat 
Their fresh and limpid floods, and make 
The beauty of the Roman street, 
Seem but the images of those 
Deep sources ’mid the city’s span 
That in their hoary breasts enclose 
The wondrous history of man. 


Rome! of these fountains of thy lore 
Let my soul drink. Not all in vain 

Be oped for me thy matchless store, 
Nor closed without return again. 

Let some sweet stream of tuneful praise 
Towards thy clear heaven its voice 

uplift, 

Along whose flow shall shine and blaze 

The gracious rainbow of thy gift. 


A ROMA. 


CiTTA delle citta! 
Nel tuo cielo chiaro, ridente, 
Splende il sole col pit bel folgor ; 
Sul tuo suolo dove la storia 
Spande la piena del suo tesor, 
Brillan uniti I’ antica gloria 

E del presente 

Tutti i fior. 


Citta delle citta! 
Mentre il fiume corre in fretta, 
Che della vita si suol chiamar, 
Pallide ombre fra il tuo bello 
Spazio tornan a dimorar, 

E del tranquillo e calmo avello 

Che ci aspetta 

A favellar. 


Citta delle citta ! 
La tua fronte porta la soma 


A ROMA. 15] 


D’ ogni delizia e d’ ogni desir ; 
Nel tuo seno contempliamo 
Giunti il riso e il sospir ; 
Sul tuo cuore impariamo 
A viver, oh! Roma, 
E a morir. 


ON THE PINCIAN, 


THEIR dusky boughs the pine-trees lift 

Against the heaven’s transcendent 
hue; 

Nor does the faintest cloudlet drift 
One film across the perfect blue. 

The world lies bathed in sunshine; hill 
And hollow, fountain, circling stream, 

Sparkle with light, and hushed and still 
The city, like a dream. 


So smiles the Present, while the Past, 
Mysterious, dim, about it lies, 
Guarding the kingdoms wide and vast, 
Invisible to human eyes ; 
But whispering to human ears, 
With speech more potent than our 
own, 
The story of the by-gone years, 
In low, perpetual tone. 


ON THE PINCIAN. 153 


It tells how soon the race was o’er 
For others ; how we soon shall be, 

With kings and emperors gone before, 
But shadows of reality ; 

And how we pass that they may come 
Whom Time’s swift courses bear 

along ; 

How other lips, when ours are dumb, 

Shall blossom into song: 


As now we sing beside their graves 

Whose rhythmic laughter once made 
glad 

The earth, whose gentle memory craves 
From us more tender words than sad; 

And as to-day o’er quick and dead 
Extends the sky’s unsullied space, 

So ever o’er us all shall spread 
The infinite embrace ; 


That change is not; that destiny 
Rules with a calm, impartial sway ; 
That to all eyes is given to see 
The generous beauty of the day. 
And, last sweet comfort unto men, — 
The thought an armor ’gainst de- 
spair, — 


154 ON THE PINCIAN. 


Since this world is so blest, shall, then, 
A future be less fair? 


With thoughts like these of peace and 
rest, 
Amid the noon’s effulgent light, 
Is soothed, not terrified, the breast, 
With shadows of the coming night ; 
And here within the soul’s true home, 
Beneath thy calm and tranquil sky, 
While making life all joy, O Rome, 
Thou teachest how to die. 


AFTERMATH. 
J. W., DIED MARCH, 1879. 


BRAVE Heart, grown cold, didst thou 
not know 
Full recognition when the field 
Was green in June, and glad to yield 
Its wealth to them who come to mow? 


And were there some who doubted, 
some, 
Unwitting that perchance thy peer 
Moved not in distant ranks or near, 
Upon whose lips thy praise grew dumb? 


Such is the meed of genius, such 
Experience proves the frequent fate 
That ’mid the small attends the great ; 

They, bringing little, sneer at much. 


156 AFTERMATH. 


But the late summer cometh, when 
Once more his scythe the reaper sets, 
And for the season’s store-house gets 

A new sweet crop to profit men. 


So they as yet unborn shall reap 
The harvests of thy steadfastness 
And thy soul’s noble law, and bless 
The mighty “fruits of them that sleep.” 


A PRAYER. 


Nort through my merits but your grace, 
Immortal powers that set me free, 
I stand before you face to face, 
And share in your eternity. 


I know beyond this path so fair 
And joyous opes the dark abyss ; 
I know that wreck and ruin there 
May be the end of too much bliss. 


But spare me! If my humble dread 
Appease the Fate yourselves obey, 

Oh, on my bowed but crownéd head 
Let not your shafts descend to slay! 


Your altars all I light with fires 
Where deepest awe and reverence 
meet ; 
And garlanded with gained desires 
I cling, still suppliant, to your feet. 


nO 
Me 


XAIPE! 


HAIL and farewell! Thus in our brief 


career 

The greetings follow; for our paths 
unite 

But to diverge, and those so near and 
dear 


To-day to-morrow vanish out of sight. 


But, brave and patient heart, feel no 


dismay ; 
For though they pass as ’t were be- 
hind a veil, 
Thy dear ones are not lost, but all thy 
way 
Is gladdened with their voices crying 
Hail ! 


And when thou standest on the shadowy 
brink 
Of the profound Unknown, thy part- 
ing knell 


XAIPE! 159 


Shall be their psalm of love, and thou 
shalt sink 
On sleep’s soft breast, soothed by 
their fond farewell! 


SCHUMANN’S SYMPHONY IN 
B FLAT MAJOR. 


A TRUMPET-CALL the slumbering sense 
awakes, 
And challenges to action and to fight. 
But swift the pluméd line of battle 
breaks, 
And, breathing o’er the brows of love 
alight, | 
The rhythm, adrift with human joys and 
woes, 
Goes wandering with a question and a 
sigh 
Throughout all life’s expectancy, to 
die 
At last in notes of rapture, as it rose. 
The patriot Swiss, who clasped the 
hostile spears, 
And through his bleeding breast carved 
freedom’s way, 


SCHUMANN’S SYMPHONY. 161 


Had known his peer on many a glorious 

day, 
Had Schumann’s muse been born of 

earlier years ; 

For when such strains as these the 
heart do greet, . 

Great deeds seem easy, and to die were 
sweet. 


JOACHIM. 


Across the strings the sympathetic bow 

Swept, held and guided by a master- 
hand. 

Like the enchanted beauty long ago 

Who slumbered, chained by magic bar 
and band, 

Till on her lips the appointed prince did 
press 

The liberating kiss and she awoke, 

So, ’neath the bow’s long-drawn desired 
caress, 

Swift into full and perfect being broke, 

Freed from the violin, the prisoned 
tones : 

In myriad measure swelled the melody, 

Bewailing now with sobs and broken 
moans 

The bondage past, now joyous to be 
free: 

And as the strain began to rise and roll, 

The soul of music met the artist’s soul. 


RUBINSTEIN. 


AMID expectant silence, grave and still, 

He laid his hands upon the pallid keys. 

Straightway the notes began to throb and 
thrill. 

Mirrored in sound the mighty mysteries, 

The fathomless of human life, its needs 

And hopes, doubts, fears, fancies and 
questionings 

Appeared, and last the tramp of funeral 


steeds, 

And trappings of the grave. On mighty 
wings 

Uprose the stirring chords till the great 
dead 


Heard where they wandered on the 
shadowy way. 

Hushed for a moment was their solemn 
tread, 


104. RUBINSTEIN. 


And athwart space a whisper seemed to 
stray, — 

Hail! great interpreter of god-like men ! 

Beneath thy quickening touch we live 
again. 


CHOPIN. 


THE polonaise is danced; the waltz is 
done ; 

The guests are gone; but still the vague 
regret 

That breathed through all things since 
the féte begun, 

Waits, and unrest and longing linger 
yet. 

Into the night! there lie repose and 
peace. 

Hark! how the wandering voices meet 
and flow 

In rhythm; hear now those calm accords 
and low, 

Like dim forebodings of a swift release. 

“Whom the gods love die young.” So, 
Chopin, thou 

Heard’st early, through the harmonies 
that stirred 

Thy poet brain, the inevitable ‘‘ Now!” 


166 CHOPIN. 


Mad’st answer, smiling, to the summon- 
ing word, 
And, sung to sleep on Music’s tender 


breast, 
Sank’st gladly into an untroubled rest. 


‘ MEIN TAG WAR HEITER, 
GLUCKLICH MEINE 
NACHT.” 


FROM HEINE. 


My day was joyous, happy was my night. 

My people’s plaudits rang whene’er the 
lyre 

Of poesy I struck; my song’s sweet fire 

Has kindled many a flame intense and 
bright. 

My summer biossoms still, but piled 
and stored 

Within my barns have I each golden ear 

Of corn, and all that made the world so 
dear 

Now must I leave—leave all I so 
adored. 

The hand falls from the harp-strings ; 
shattered lie 

The fragments of the glass with life re- 
plete, 


168 MEIN TAG WAR HEITER. 


That gayly on my haughty lips I pressed. 

O God! how hateful-bitter ’t is to die! 

O God! how heavenly ’tis to live, how 
sweet, 

In this enchanting little earthly nest! 


CIR Soe Vie Pa 


AS sweeps a wind at morning, cool and 
clear, 

Against the wavering mists that break 
and flee, 

Leaving the wide blue prairies of the sea 

Outstretched in sunlit splendor far and 
near ; 

As, in the early breeze’s fresh embrace, 

The autumn flowers shake off their sleep 
and shine, 

Gold, purple, ’mid a blaze of scarlet vine, 

And all the fields are clothed with joy 
and grace, — 

So, loftiest Teacher! sweep thy wingéd 
words 

Against the mists and errors of our 
days. 

So to thy voice respond a_ thousand 
chords 

That slumbered, thrilling to perfected 
praise. 


170 TO R. W.E. 


And ’neath the breath of thine inspiring 
mood, 

The soul grows strong and life seems 
sweet and good. 


CHAUCER. 


A LIMPID source, a clear and bubbling 
spring, 

Born in some wooded dell unknown of 
heat, 

Above whose breast the leafy branches 
meet 

And kiss, and earthward wavering shad- 
ows fling ; 

Upon whose brink the perfumed flower- 
cups swing 

*Neath the light tread of hurrying insect 
feet; 

Such, Chaucer, seems the sturdy note 
and sweet 

In thine unfettered song reéchoing. 

Hence they who sometimes weary of the 
play 

Of fountains and the artificial jets 

Which in gay parks and gardens dance 
and leap, 


[72 CHAUCER. 


Turn back again into that forest-way 

Where thy fresh stream the grass and 
mosses wets 

That slumber on its margin cool and 
deep. 


AT, SEA. 


I. 


WuatT lies beyond the far horizon’s 
rim? 

Ah! could our ship but reach and an- 
chor there, 

What wondrous scenes, what visions 
bright and fair 

Would meet the eyes that gazed across 
the brim! 

But though we crowd the canvas on and 
trim 

Our barque with skill, the proud waves 
seem to bear 

No nearer to that goal, and everywhere 

Stretches an endless circle wide and 
dim. 

So do we dream, treading the narrow 
path 

Of life, between the bounds of day and 


night, 


174 AT SEA. 


To-morrow turns this page so often 
conned: 

But when to-morrow cometh, lo! it hath 

The limits of to-day, and in its light 

Still lies far off the unknown heaven be- 
yond. 


II. 


We sail the centre of a ceaseless round, 
Forever circled by the horizon’s rim ; 
And fondly deem that from that far-off 


brim 

Some sign will rise or some glad tidings 
sound. 

But no word comes, nor aught to break 

the bound 

Of sea and sky all day wit distance 
dim, 

And vanished quite when darkness, chill 
and grim, | 

About the deep her sable shroud has 
wound. 


So.on the seas of life and time we drift, 

Within the circling limits of our fate, 

¥Expectant ever of some solving breath. 

But no sound comes, no pitying hand 
doth lift 


AT SEA. 175 


The veil nor faith nor love can pene- 
trate, 

And to our dusk succeeds the dark of 
death. 


A VOYAGE. 


‘* My soul is an enchanted boat.’? — SHELLEY. 


LET us float on the downward-flowing 
stream, 

Like to a happy lover with his bride. 

My heart is still, my soul is satisfied, 

Since thou art the companion of my 
dream. 

Above our heads the golden planets 
gleam, 

Fields strewn with flowers stretch by the 
river’s side, 

The rippling waves make music as we 


glide ; 

Life, love and gladness is that music’s 
theme. 

Whence did we come into this magic 
boat ? 


We know not, neither whither we are 
bound. 


A VOYAGE. 177 


For fate is silent and its end unseen. 

Let us float on — what should we do but 
float? 

Until we pass into some sea profound 

Where all shall be as if it had not been. 


KINGS. 


‘¢The real king that God makes is the man who melts 
all wills into his own.”’ CARLYLE, 


I READ of kings and princes, how they 
sought 

With flattering word and deed to hold 
the dower 

Their sires bequeathed, and with new 
grants of power 

The sufferance of the half-freed nations 
bought. 

How vain and foolish is their race, I 
thought, 

Who strut upon the stage their little 
hour, 

Yet, like the meanest mortal, in the 
flower 

Of pride and pomp, must perish and be 
naught. 

Then fell the seér’s words across my 
page: 


KINGS. 179 


The only king and sovereign by God’s 
grace, 

Is he who melts all wills into his own. 

When this one comes to claim his heri- 
tage, 

How we fall back to give the monarch 
place, 

And bend the obedient knee before his 
throne ! 


WEAVING. 


THE fair-armed Helen in her fragrant 


room 

In Priam’s palace, while the bloody 
fight 

Raged in the plain below, beyond her 
sight, 

Worked at a purple garment on the 
loom. 


Into the web she wove pictures of gloom 

And glory, deeds of prowess and of 
might, 

Labors of Greeks and Trojans till black 
night 

Enwrapt them and they came upon their 
doom. 

Thus on the spreading loom of Time we 
weave 

The garment of our life; the web we 
crowd 

With shifting images by fate allowed 


WEAVING. 18I 


To fill from nothingness our short re- 
prieve ; 

And haste the work although so loth to 
leave 

What, being finished, serves us for a 
shroud. 


A SHATTERED GLASS. 


Amone the curious trifles travellers 
show, 

Are bits of flashing, rainbow-tinted 
glass, 

Dropped by the hand of Time, that in 
the grass 

Of seldom-trodden fields half-hidden 
glow. 

What cups and bowls they fashioned — 
who may know? 

But tales they tell to the new men that 
pass 

Of old-time feasts and revels, and, alas ! 

Of pride and joy that perished long ago. 

That was a beauteous vase from which 
we drank 

Sunshine and smiles and love’s sweet 
potion till 

From hands too weak to bear its weight 
it sank, 


A SHATTERED GLASS. 183 


And its frail rainbows shattered. If you 
will, 

Let us take up the fragments while we 
thank 

A gracious Heaven that these are left 
us still. 


SURPLUS: 


WITH fullest sunshine that yon heaven 
reveals 

Glittered the temple-walls of his abode ; 

And life on him those richest gifts be- 


stowed 

Which else with niggard hand it most 
conceals. 

The obstacles at which the faint soul 
feels 


Its strength give way, were crushed, 
when not the goad 

To new success, like pebbles on the 
road, 

Scarce noticed ’neath a conqueror’s 
chariot-wheels. 

But his heart trembied, for he wisely 
said: 

I am unworthy of this perfect feast : 

Lo! I bring offerings to each jealous 


god ; 


SURPLUS. 185 


Let not one be forgot, not even the least, 
If so I may escape the avenging rod: 
Of state too prosperous I am afraid. 


FLORENCE. 


LIKE some fair woman on whose breast 
are hung 

Jewels of price, so decked from side to 
side 

With towers and domes and palaces, in 
pride 

And state she sits the circling hills 
among. 

Into her lap the centuries have flung 

Their splendid spoils, and art with art 
has vied 

To weave her charméd raiment to abide 

And keep her ever beautiful and young. 

And those who pass beneath her potent 
sway 

She welcomes nobly, and with royal 
mien 

Points where her garnered stores of 
treasure lie. 


FLORENCE. 187 


Take of them what you will, she seems 
to say: 

Here are no limits, for a queen am I, 

Generous in giving as befits a queen. 


SHELLES. 


I. 


HE sang the Titan’s woes and victory, 
Himself a Titan through whose giant 


mind 

Astounding shapes swept swifter than 
the wind, 

And than the wind more grand and high 
and free. | 


Ever his ardent vision seemed to see 

Amid the glorious structures he de- 
signed 

Of poetry, the weal of human-kind, 

A reign of hope and love and liberty. 

Stilled is that heart, so loyal and so 
brave, 

Within the compass of a funeral urn, 

Beneath the shade of cypresses and 
pines. 

But sweet as violets blooming on the 
grave 


SHELLEY. 189 


His voice remains, and bright his proud 
verse shines 

As in the skies the deathless planets 
burn. 


II. 
COR CORDIUM. 


ALL that the water and the fire have 
spared, 

The purifying elements that blend 

With the remembrance of thy early end 

Whom the gods loved, now with the 
earth is shared. 

Amid a scene of beauty unimpaired 

By blot or stain, upon thy grave descend 

The cypress shadows while above extend 

Such realms of splendor as thy verse 
declared. 

O Heart of Hearts ! repose beneath the 
sod. 

The immortal spirit marvellously great 

Has found on heights of fame its glorious 
seat. 

With flaming wings and garments of a 
god, 


190 SHELLEY. 


Upon those mountain-peaks it keeps its 
state 

While Time rolls up our plaudits to its 
feet. é. 


Romeg, 1881. 


ROME AFTER 1870. 


MOTHER of Nations, on whose classic 
brow 

Glittered in turn the imperial diadem, 

The royal fillet, and that brighter gem 

With which free men their chosen chief 
endow ; 

To-day’s fresh crown prints nobler fur- 
rows now 

Upon thy front than left by all of them. 

New pearls of promise deck thy gar- 
ment’s hem, 

And thy pulse quivers at a people’s vow. 

Child of these later times! yield to thy 


land 

Again the blessings it has rendered 
nee: 

Last, precious conquest of a valiant 
band, 


Weary of bondage, struggling to be 
free, 


1Q2 ROME AFTER 1670. 


Resolved on union, — be the strong 
right Hand 
As still thou art the Heart of Italy! 


oh) ROME, 


i. 


A GARDEN of Armida wherein flows 

A stream of sweet oblivion, where the 
roar 

And din of far-off fights is heard no 
more, 

Where for all wounds some healing bal- 
sam grows ; 

A dream in which no dread of waking 
throws 

Its darkling shadow o’er the fancy’s 
store, 

But where the radiant-fingered hours 
outpour 

Long draughts of rest, refreshment, and 
repose ; 

Both these,—a vision, an enchanted 
space, — 

City of cities! when the eyes have seen 

13 


194 YO ROME. 


Thy deeper mysteries, dost thou appear. 

Fain would the heart, in homage to thy 
grace 

And grandeur, cry that the wide world 
might hear : 

Hail! mighty Rome! my mistress and 
my queen! 


II. 


Like an o’erwhelming wind that sweeps 
along 

The path on which glad bands of pil- 
grims come, 

Lashing their limbs till they grow stiff 
and numb, 

Smiting their lips and robbing them of 
song ; 

So do thy mighty shadows move among 

The daily shows, upon their fronts the 


sum 

And story of the Past; and speech is 
dumb, 

And dead desire before that wondrous 
throng. 


What should he prate whose ear is~ 
strained to catch 


TO ROME. 195 


Their voiceless accents? how torment 
the heart 

With thoughts aside from their imperi- 
ous sway ? 

Back, every crowding image, while we 


watch 

The spirits’ progress, and e’en thou de- 
part, 

O Love! unanswered; this is not thy 
day. ’ 


Ill. 


As in the presence of the loved one fly, 

For him who loves, the golden-wingéd 
hours, 

So ’mid the circle of thy charm, with 
showers 

Of gifts and benisons the days go by. 

And as his mistress still the lover’s eye 

Invests with new-found beauties, so 
fresh flowers 

Upon thy bounteous lap the lavish Pow- 
ers 

Seem to our dazzled sight to multiply. 

And one divinely-drunken spirit nods 


196 TO ROME. 


Above the cup thou bear’st, crying: 
’T is fraught 

With joy; drink deep while the wine 
overflows. | 

But one more wise a warning word be- 
Stows ; 

Heart! let thy bliss be tempered by the 
thought — 

Excess of rapture pleases not the gods. 


ANTINOUS OF THE VATICAN. 


ANTINOUS, upon thy brow of snow 

It seems as if the gathered sunshine lay 

Of ages, and about thy sweet lips play 

The same glad smiles that wreathed 
them long ago. 

Thy curls’ luxuriant clusters seem to 
glow 

With the old life; we almost hear thee 
say 

The word thou usedst to murmur in 
that day 

When love’s kiss burned on thy mouth’s 
perfect bow. 

O sweetest youth that ever human eyes 

Have gazed upon, thou mak’st the heart 
grow warm 

Of him who lifts his sane to thee 
above. 

And thine, besides the charm of face 
and form, 


198 ANTINOUS OF THE VATICAN. 


His higher fame of whom the poet 
cries: 

“How noble is his end who dies for 
love! ”12 


1 ‘Che bel fin fa chi ben amando more !”’ 
PETRARCH. 


A BAS-RELIEF. 


A WHITE-ROBED priestess by an altar 


stands, 

Whence breath of flowers and flame of 
sacrifice 

With intermingled smoke of incense 
rise, 

Serving the god with fair and stainless 
hands. 

Up an ascending pathway come the 
bands 

Of worshippers with gifts; their yearn- 
ing eyes 

Turned towards the goal that in the dis- 
tance lies 

Like some cloud structure reared in sun- 
set lands. 

But,now the shrine is reached ; each one 
has bowed 


Before the gracious presence ; each has 
passed, 


200 A BAS-RELIEF. 


Leaving his offering, of the adoring 
throng. 

Garlands and jewels there are strewn; 
and last 

A smiling youth, bright-haired and eager- 
browed, 

Lays at the altar’s foot a wreath of song. 


ADDIO A ROMA. 


SERBA, 0 citta! un silenzio maestoso ; 
Tu di chi parte non senti il dolore ; 
Tu sei eterna, e in immortal splendore 
Brilla il volto tuo, alto e luminoso, 
Verso di te lo sguardo lacrimoso 
Volge nell’ ultima ora il viaggiatore, 

E col pianto misto, dal triste cuore 
Prorompe il suo discorso amoroso. 
Cara e beata! ti cinge il pensier mio, 
Come le braccia nell’ ardente amplesso 
D’ amor I’ oggetto stringon del desio. 
Tu che mi porti d’ ogni mal |’ obblio, 
E il mio cammin rischiari col riflesso 
D’ un indicibil gioia — addio, addio! 


ON LEAVING ITALY. 


As one who gazes on a dear dead face, 

When all is o’er, and cannot let it go, 

But with hot tears, and accents weak 
with woe, | 

Pleads for one last reprieve, one little 
space, 

Before the grave shall cover all that 
grace 

Which even in death the pallid features 
show, 

Knowing that while the stream of life 
shall flow, 

No newer love this old one can replace ; 

So do I turn once more, and yet once 
more, 

Land of my love, my lingering look on 
thee. 

A month,—a week, —a day; —it may 
not be: 


ON LEAVING ITALY. 203 


So sounds the message that the further 
shore 

Cries to its messenger th’ unfeeling sea. 

Farewell, O Italy! my Italy! 


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